


days that are no more

by dasyuridae



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Memory Alteration, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasyuridae/pseuds/dasyuridae
Summary: A series of drabbles for the Sunbeams Winter Art Trade, based on four of my favourite pieces of art by h4wkguy (@revivificating on twitter)
Relationships: Dominic Marijuana & Randall Marijuana
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Stare Into The Sun





	1. you ever get this feeling you're forgetting something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [h4wkguy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4wkguy/gifts).



> cw for recreational drug use and memory alteration in this chapter. go give ash's art lots of love!

> you ever get this feeling you're forgetting something [#blaseball](https://twitter.com/hashtag/blaseball?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw) [pic.twitter.com/xYzqlhi7U6](https://t.co/xYzqlhi7U6)
> 
> — party town (@revivificating) [November 8, 2020](https://twitter.com/revivificating/status/1325499358742241281?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

When Randy slipped through the door onto the balcony Dom didn’t turn around, just lifted a hand in greeting. “You want one?”  
Randy stepped up beside him, murmuring a yes and leaning onto the railing, looking out over the bustle of New York, so vast and different from Utah. His brother pulled out his papers and started to roll him a joint, packing it with practised movements. Randy liked to watch him do it - had done even when he was younger and Dom would shoo him out of the room as soon as he started smoking, telling him he was too young. There was something about the neatness of it, how meditative it was. He’d never been as good at it, never been able to avoid making it lumpy. Nowadays Emmett rolled all of theirs, with his robotic precision, but it was nice, watching Dom do it. It felt like the old days.

  
“What are you thinking about?” Randy asked, taking the joint off Dom and pulling out his lighter, his cold fingers struggling to flick it.  
Dom watched him struggle, the corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile, then took a puff, exhaling slowly and watching the smoke drift up into the frigid air. “Nothing much.”  
The lighter finally sparked, catching the end of Randy’s joint. “Liar.”  
“You ever get this feeling you’re forgetting something?”  
Randy watched as the smoke he breathed out mingled with Dom’s. “I’m from Hellmouth.”  
“That a yes?”  
“Yeah. It messes with your memory, a little bit. Like these things.” Randy waved at his horns. “When I remember being a kid, I remember having them. And I think that’s real. It isn’t just my imagination.”  
Dom frowned. “I’d remember that.”  
“Yeah, well. It gets confusing. I try not to think about it too much.” Randy ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar solidness of his horns beneath it. “Plus that awful bowl cut I used to have doesn’t look half as bad with these bad boys.”  
“God that bowl cut was hideous. You should bring it back.”  
Randy coughed, his throat rough with smoke. “So now you think it was awful, after subjecting me to it all those years?”  
Dom glanced at him sharply, rolling his joint between his fingers. “That wasn’t me.”  
“Who else would it have been?”  
“Well, there was- before he left. I can’t remember.” Dom stepped back from the railing, biting a nail almost anxiously, then shook his head and laughed almost forcefully. "I think I’m too high.”  
“That’s weird, I swear it was you who gave that to me.” Randy shrugged. “Ah well. As long as I don’t have to worry about you trying to bring it back, hm?”  
His brother smiled weakly. “Yeah.”  
They stood there quietly for a moment, watching the smoke as it drifted away from them, across the New York skyline. Just the two of them, like it had always been, quiet and comfortable in each other’s company.  
“I’m getting too maudlin.” murmured Dom. “Wanna head inside and play Mario Kart?”  
Randy took another deep pull from his joint, trying and failing to blow a smoke ring as he exhaled. “How could I ever say no?”  
"It's nice to have you stay. Dingus."   
"Idiot." replied Randy, but he bumped Dom with his shoulder softly. "It's nice to be here. Two of us against the world?"  
Dom reached over and ruffled his hair, turning to walk back inside. "Just the two of us, bro."


	2. have we met?

> have we met? [pic.twitter.com/xIheeYNa0M](https://t.co/xIheeYNa0M)
> 
> — party town (@revivificating) [January 21, 2021](https://twitter.com/revivificating/status/1352093893819576322?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

The party was bustling, celebratory, all of the Sunbeams still riding the high of their win. People were everywhere in the Clubhouse, drinking, eating, chatting. It was a bit overwhelming for Simon - she knew most of the players from Wild Low by sight, but never spent that much time around them. Howell had gone to talk to someone, something about ‘defending the honour of wolves’, so Simon was standing alone, a half empty drink in her hand, looking at the various pictures and art blutacked crookedly to the wall. There was a knot of people in the corner of the room, clustering around Lars Taylor, the pitcher who had won the Sunbeams the finals. They had changed since the last time Simon had seen them. There was something different, more than just the hat and the boots and the weird horse, who was standing knee deep in the pool and trying to bite people. There was a new solidness to Lars, almost like a heat signature, that seemed weirdly familiar. The crush of people around him ebbed for a second and Simon took a sip and stepped forward, winding their way towards him.  
“Lars Taylor, right?” she said, smiling.  
Lars grinned, signing just slow enough for her to understand. “Yeah! And you’re Simon?”  
Simon opened her mouth to reply and then froze. It came like a wave, the sudden understanding of why Lars seemed so familiar. Memories of conversations held over the space of decades, of warmth in the depth of cold space, a cosmic heartbeat she saw reflected in the person in front of her. It didn’t make any sense, but it had to be. She knew it had to be. She had always wondered where he had gone, without a word to anyone. She wanted to blurt it out, to hug him, but a small part of her doubted it enough to hold back.  
“H- have we met?” she stuttered, staring at his face, trying to see a glimmer of recognition.  
Lars cocked their head, eye flickering across her. “Well we’ve played each other, if that’s what you’re asking? I remember you! You’re fast!”  
Simon swallowed thickly. Maybe she had been imagining it. Maybe it was wishful thinking, looking for memories from her old life in the weirdest places. It wouldn’t have made any sense anyway. Why would he be here, in this place, in this form?

Before she could say anything more to Lars she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, pulling her away.  
“Can I steal Simon for a second?”  
She turned to see Sandoval Crossing, the Sunbeams pitcher. Esme talked about them a lot but she’d always found them quite intimidating, especially now, looming over her, stop sign grasped in one hand.  
Lars nodded, waving and turning to talk to someone else, while Sandoval walked Simon away a little, out of earshot, then gave her a thin smile.  
“Have you figured it out?”  
Simon could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her mouth bone dry. “Figured what out?”  
Sandy pointed over his shoulder, back towards Lars. “Who he is. What he is.”  
She considered lying for a second, but there was only one thing Sandy could mean, and it felt wrong to pretend that she couldn’t tell. To pretend that she wasn't, deep down, certain about who Lars was. “I think- Yeah. I think I know. He was a friend of mine.”  
Her mind was buzzing, full of questions. How had he got here? Why didn’t he recognise her? Why hadn’t he said anything? How had he taken this form? It seemed so beautifully impossible, so horrifyingly perfect.  
Sandy grimaced slightly. “I need to ask you a favour. I need you to not- not say anything. Lars, well- when he first came here it was very difficult. Dangerous. Something happened, and he forgot his, uh, past. We don’t know what would happen if he remembered. It’s better to let him figure it out for himself, I think. I know this must be hard for you. Do you have any questions?”  
Simon stared at them for a second, blinking, then shook her head mutely. Of course she had questions, she had thousands, but none of them were as important as the loss she felt in that moment. The loudness of the party was suddenly unbearable. This was what she had wanted for years. A friend from her past, someone who could understand the things she missed, someone she could talk to about the freedom of space. And now it had been taken from her, from both of them, before she had even known she could have it.   
Sandy gave her an apologetic pat on the shoulder and turned, leaving her behind, alone.

Simon stood outside for a while, tears pricking at her eyes, staring up at the distant stars, wanting more than anything to talk to them. She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard Lars beside her.  
“You alright Simon?”  
She turned to look at him, seeing for a second who he was now and who he had been overlaid, flickering until she blinked it away. “Yeah.” she said weakly. “You enjoying the party?”  
Lars’ grin was almost blinding in its brightness. “It’s awesome! It’s so fun to have all of my friends together. Like, I feel like there are people from so many parts of my life, you know?”  
Simon glanced up at him, silhouetted against the night sky, stars sparkling among his flickering hands. “Yeah.” she murmured, staring back down into her drink. “I guess so.”


	3. what exactly have you managed to protect all these years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very minor cw for animal death

> what exactly have you managed to protect all these years [pic.twitter.com/W1158ZtLP1](https://t.co/W1158ZtLP1)
> 
> — party town (@revivificating) [January 20, 2021](https://twitter.com/revivificating/status/1351739070578388996?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

The crows had a habit of gathering outside Sigmund in the morning, waiting for Sandy to come and give them the seeds they had grown used to. They would burst from the ground in a swirl of black feathers, their cawing filling the air, then sit nearby as she scattered their food. They would watch with cocked heads and sharp eyes, only coming down to the ground when she stepped back and gave them room. And she would sit for a bit, watch them feed, watch the way they squabbled amongst themselves, their dance of hopping and pecking and leaping upwards with flashing wings. They were easy, crows. She had never learned to tell them apart individually. She didn’t want to. Sandy looked after them as a gift to Vela, but also because she couldn’t help herself. Because it was easy, wasn’t it? Just ten minutes a day. Why shouldn’t she take them under her wing, since it was easy. Just ten minutes a day. Never mind how often that ten minutes turned into twenty, sitting and watching, feeling her heart lifted by their antics. Never mind how she had found the carcass of one, savaged by some creature, and had held it to her chest and sobbed, crouched in the desert sand. Never mind that it was more to protect, more to grow attached to, more to mourn. She couldn’t tell them apart individually. It was just ten minutes a day. If she could do nothing against the pull of the Hellmouth, against the flashing fire of the umpires, she could do this. Take seeds outside, once a day, watch them dance and call. She could do this. She had to do this.


	4. do you think it's gonna hurt, buddy?

> do you think it's gonna hurt, buddy? [pic.twitter.com/eXMB5c3JTZ](https://t.co/eXMB5c3JTZ)
> 
> — party town (@revivificating) [December 30, 2020](https://twitter.com/revivificating/status/1344130897658974208?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

> Someone had mentioned the dogs to Randy off-handedly. They had belonged to Hendricks, the batters he had replaced on the Jazz Hands - he had used them for sledding. The Jazz Hands had agreed to look after them when he moved, not sure they would adjust to the environment of the Hellmouth. So there was a six dog team in Breckenridge, looked after by all of the players. As soon as Randy heard that he went to find them. He had always liked dogs, but there was an extra element to their appeal now. He was going to die in forty days. He had just joined a new team. There was a barrier of guilt that stopped him from getting close to them. How could he justify it? How could he make them into new friends, knowing they would be grieving? So he held them at arm’s length. The dogs, on the other hand - they might miss him, but they wouldn’t grieve in the same way. He wouldn’t be letting them down. They were good listeners too, he could say to them all the things he hadn’t dared to say aloud before. All the fear he didn’t want Dom to hear, the regrets he couldn’t say to Emmett, the doubts he didn’t dare to share with Nagomi, the goodbyes he wished he could say to Sandy. So he would sit next to his bed, a dog heavy and warm in his lap, and whisper secret words to it.

  
“Do you think it’s gonna hurt, buddy?”   
Rosa nuzzled up at his hand as he scratched between her ears. She never failed to make him smile, even when she shed fur all over his black jeans.   
“Yeah.” Randy sighed. “I reckon it will too. But it can’t last long, right? I think it’ll be quick. And then I’ll be able to see Emmett! That will be really nice. I hope he’s doing alright where he is, I miss him a lot.”   
Rosa whined, putting her head down on his knee.   
“I think I almost feel worse for everyone else, you know? Like they don’t know why we’re doing this. They’re going to think I’ve died for nothing. What will Layna think? There’s so much I want to say to them, but I can’t because it’ll give it away. God, what about Dom! I- I hope he doesn’t miss me too much. I really do think it’ll be harder for them. I have the easy part.”   
Randy reached under the scruff of Rosa’s neck and scratched there, smiling when she closed her eyes and laid her head down. For a second his throat felt thick, his eyes prickling. The cold Breckenridge air was really doing a number on him.   
“It doesn’t matter if it hurts, Rosa. I have the easy part. Don’t I? I’m sure you miss Hendricks a lot, and he’s off having fun with the Sunbeams. I just have to-” Randy paused, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “I just have to do what I have to do.”   
Rosa didn’t respond, asleep now and breathing softly. Randy leaned down and pressed a kiss into her fur, ignoring the streaks of tears he left behind, glimmering on the grey.   
“I’m gonna miss you too, pup. Don’t be too sad when I’m gone, yeah?”


End file.
